Capital Roaming

Even though I haven’t had a full semester of classes since last fall, I have yet to lose my cheap college student, trying-to-save-money-now-to-pay-off-school-loans-later attitude. Every morning, I take a commuter train into Washington, D.C. from Baltimore and then take the metro to my office at the U.S. Holocaust Memorial Museum. Despite record-high temperatures recently in our nation’s capital, I frequently opt to walk from Union Station to avoid paying the metro fare.

While walking to work, I cannot help but be reminded of my previous morning commutes. One wouldn’t presume that D.C. and Oswiecim are even remotely similar, but I begin to miss my Polish life, particularly when I walk to USHMM. Upon entering the respective workspaces, differences are apparent, as a site of mass murder bares authenticities not possible for a memorial to sites of mass murder. When walking around the community, however, I still manage to pass stands selling Polish sausages and various cafes and bakeries. I hold my own opinions of which country houses a greater population of quality bakers, biased greatly by prices, but the déjà vu moments are frequent and welcome.

I think about my time in Poland daily. These moments lack great significance and mostly revolve around a general longing for my calm life, amazing friends and abundance of cheap, fresh food. Although no time-stopping epiphanies occur, I drew one conclusion on a recent walk to USHMM: Poland and the U.S. are not all that different. Sure, the culture, customs, language, law, politics, economies, infrastructure and, of course, food, but underneath all of this exists two societies of human beings. And, as a human being, we work for high reputations, value nationalistic pride, and naturally seek deflection over admittance of guilt. For more information, see the 2016 presidential election and recent comments by certain Polish ministry officials.

Near the National Mall exists a memorial to the Japanese internment camps created during World War II. History curriculums, particularly in grade school, frequently omits this dark part of our nation’s history. Of course, other atrocities at larger scales occurred during this time period, but this should not take away from the horrors experienced as a direct result of U.S. governmental actions. The memorial is aesthetically pleasing, particularly with the backdrop of autumn in D.C. However, my overly critical view of atrocity memorialization cannot help but notice the small printed apologies to the Japanese community that easily fade into the background of the large monument.

I could share my uncensored opinions of this corner memorial, but it is more important to see the similarities to criticisms of Polish and German education systems. While visiting various institutions in Germany and Poland as a part of my outside research, I learned of the decline and growth of Holocaust education in schools. As an outsider, it is easy to criticize Poland or Germany for, at some point in history, refusing to educate its youngest generation on respective dark histories. Returning from the “outside” to the United States, I am now able to see how we, as a nation, deflect our own histories in a very similar way, further proving, that Poland and the United States are the same in as many ways as they are different.

History surrounds us at all times. Even if I no longer pass burial ground and crematoriums on my walks to work, World War II and the Holocaust are permanently embedded in my daily life.

            

The Uncondemned

Part of my position at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum involves assisting in the development, execution and analysis of public programs enacted by the Museum. Public Programs consist of any sort of outreach event opened to the public. These events take place all over the country, with regional offices in the Northeast, Southwest and West coast. Although I have only finished my second week in this position, I have already had the opportunity to participate in the Film Screening of a new ground-breaking documentary entitled, The Uncondemned.

The documentary follows the story of a group of international lawyers sent to Rwanda following the 1994 genocide. The 100-day Rwandan Genocide left almost 1 million Tutsis dead at the hands of the Hutu majority. Despite events in Cambodia and Bosnia, Rwanda would be the first to use the International Criminal Court since 1946. It would also be the first time rape, constituted as a war crime in 1919, was tried in the ICC as a crime of war.

Rape is synonymous with war, as the display of sexual power easily pairs with intergroup conflicts. The documentary follows the pioneering efforts of a band of young activists, faced with institutional backlash and lack of resources, determined to hold the guilty accountable for their crimes of sexual violence. Even more profound, however, are the young women from Rwanda who courageously stepped forward to speak the truth that so many others overlooked. The story of this group and their trial at the International Criminal Tribunal of Rwanda inspires the never-ending effort to not forget the past, while progressing towards eliminating future genocidal activity.

After the screening of the film, a panel formed comprising of Sara Darehshori, one of the former prosecutors for the International Criminal Tribunal of Rwanda, and Michele Mitchell, the film’s co-director. Questions from the audience attempted to shine more light on the process Darehshori and others underwent in order to change the international criminal justice system. Sexual violence is a unique war crime, in that acts of rape or sexual assault occur almost in conjunction wartime and long periods of violence.

Unfortunately, however, these crimes are frequently overlooked for the “more important” crimes. During the Holocaust, for example, SS guards often boasted of raping Hungarian Jews selected to go to the gas chambers the following day. This is not to diminish the crime of mass murder, but the lack of criminal charges against SS officials committing acts of sexual violence and rape allows for an entire aspect of victim suffering to go unheard. Sara and the other lawyers and activists in Rwanda fought to get these crimes heard, even though outside organizations were solely focused on crimes associated with mass murder.

The use of rape as a war tool and intimidation tactic dates back centuries, yet the first trial of rape as a war crime, did not occur until the late 1990’s. I am very grateful for my co-op for many reasons, but above all, I appreciate the knowledge and connections associated with my many jobs. On a daily basis, I learn something new about the Holocaust, genocide, international justice or atrocity prevention. Perhaps I am still influenced by my childhood dreams of becoming a teacher like my mother, as I firmly believe that learning is the most powerful tool we have to overcome the hate pinning societies against one another. Listening to a story and learning from the experiences of others never ceases to connect us, as cheesy and obvious as that sounds. Sara and the International Criminal Tribunal of Rwanda, through the never-ending pursuit of young activists, listened to the women of Rwanda, and the world learned, but the learning is not over.

Reverse Culture Shock

When people warn you about culture shock, they are often referring to the transitional period between arriving in a new place and assimilating in that environment. I found that the transition back to a familiar place constitutes as another form of culture shock, one that I am calling “reverse culture shock”.

            

I moved back to my hometown of Catonsville, MD one week ago; strange does not even begin to describe the feeling of living once again on American soil. In this first week, I re-learned seemingly basic American customs, such as speaking English at normal paces, jay-walking, transportation services that (sort of) run on time, working for 8 hours without breaks, and eating meals in 5 minutes or less. I can ask strangers for directions and understand every food item in the grocery store. I drive everywhere instead of biking or walking, causing me to spend more money on transportation than food for the first time since high school.

            

Honestly, the oddest thing about the United States upon returning from Poland, is that everyone speaks and understands English. I began my work at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum this past Monday. Last week, at this time, I relied primarily on nonverbal signs to communicate with my co-workers, and now, my entire position revolves around communicating with a team of other English-speakers.

Let’s back up: my six-month co-op experience is rather unique in that I combined two 3-month programs. The second half of my co-op is an intern position in the Project Management and Public Programs sections of the Marketing Department at USHMM. This position is a refreshing break from the history-heavy, content-based co-ops I sought out in the past. In this position, I will have the opportunity to share the knowledge I have acquired about the Holocaust through the development of events and projects.

I have yet to have a job, excluding my work in customer service, that relies on collaboration and teamwork. The constant conversing with project managers, creative directors and program developers has been useful in my exploration of different work environments. All this talking, however, is surprisingly daunting. I never thought I would have to re-accommodate to speaking English in a professional setting, especially considering it is the only language in which I am fluent. I am almost grateful for the bumps I encountered over the past week, as it reminds me that I lived in Poland for three months, something I seem to frequently forget.

When embarking on an international co-op, obvious concerns revolve around assimilating into a new culture and learning to live in this new environment. I spent little time exploring how this culture translates into the work environment. Returning the United States, I faced different challenges and accommodations with each environment I re-acquainted. Water is free in restaurants, windows have screens, coffee is not instant, “fresh” produce isn’t actually fresh, and English is spoken as quickly and efficiently as possible. Slang, abbreviations and short sentences prevail, contradicting my adjustments to the calmer, slower life of Poland. I diagnosed my condition as “reverse culture shock,” but this has an unnecessary negative connotation. The opportunities and experiences are still surreal, and my transition home promotes constant reminders of my Polish past. Not many people have the opportunity to miss other countries besides their native land. So, I do miss Poland, even if it is the country I love to hate.            

How to Say Goodbye

I have known for three months now that September 30th would be a difficult day. Today marks my transition to the second half of my co-op. This occupational and institutional transition also comes with a geographical transition: this Monday I will begin my position in the project management department at the United States Holocaust Memorial Museum. Today I had to say goodbye to Poland and the oddly rewarding memories I made over the past 90 days.

For the first time in my life, I was speechless for three days in a row. No matter how hard I tried, I could not mentally process that I had to leave. Have you ever seen the movie, "Click"? It's a rather stupid Adam Sandler romantic comedy, but the point is, he ends up dreaming up the entire plot and waking up at the end of the movie realizing it was all a dream. That is what I am feeling right now. It seems unreal that I worked at Auschwitz in Poland for three months and now I am returning to the United States. I am, however, returning with a new appreciation for Poland, profoundly greater knowledge of the Holocaust and the role of Auschwitz, too many books, too little money, a new lifelong and international group of friends, and even a tattoo. Although, what I am leaving behind is far greater. How does one say goodbye to a place that witnessed millions of murders and, ironically, my personal, professional and academic growth? How does one say goodbye to family, as co-workers and friends quickly became? How does one say goodbye to European airlines that give out full sandwiches and unlimited drinks, unlike the semi-stale pretzels and spoonful of water given to passengers aboard airlines from the United States? And, no I am not bitterly writing this post on the airplane while watching newly released movies.

I know I wouldn't not have had this experience if it wasn't for the Northeastern co-op program and, of course, the never-ending work of Malgosia Wosinska. However, I cannot help but be frustrated it's the seemingly constant farewell bids.  I hate goodbyes, but, then again, so does everybody. I did my best to take my mother's advice and replace "goodbye" with "see you later." It was a little awkward returning to Auschwitz II-Birkenau and say "see you later!" to the almost 5km piece of land, but in most other circumstances it worked. 

The success of saying "see you later," lies in its sincerity: I genuinely know that I will return to Oswiecim. I don't know when or with whom, but a town that saw me run, fall, break things, mature, learn and grow, deserves to be re-visited. When I find myself in Cologne, Berlin, Furstenberg, Kraków, Warsaw, Bielsko or Oswiecim, I have countless places to stay with the best company.

I will miss going to a corner shop and being able to buy pierogis and fresh bread for 10 cents. I will miss Poland's version of Italian food and sushi. I will miss the buses and trains that always seem to make me question where I would survive the never-ending turbulent trip. More than all of this, however, I will miss the people I experienced it with. 

To Andrea, Manish, Micha, Stephan, Macej (Matt), Anna, Kasia, Kasia II, Teresa, Edyta, Piotr, Piotr II, Jacek (Polish dad), Andrezj, Kiara, Dorota, Patricya, that one cab driver, pierogis, cini-minis, the police officers that drove me to the ATM, and, of course, Malgosia: thank you. Thank you for not only dealing with my presence, but also supporting me through the most difficult and rewarding experience of my college career. 

Na Razie, Poland.

Malgosia, Manish and I on our last day of work

Marathon training in Poland

Like a lot of Northeastern students, exercise became an important part of my daily routine when I first moved to Boston. With the unpredictability of college life, I find comfort in the stability of exercise – not to mention, it's a great habit for combatting the freshman fifteen. Moving to Poland, I knew I would be facing very different stresses and, without access to Marino and Squashbusters, running is the only way I would be able to exercise. To motivate me to implement running into my Polish routine, I registered for the Baltimore Half-Marathon, giving me 3.5 months to train for the race in my hometown. Unfortunately, no matter how often I regretted this decision, the registration fee is non-refundable, so there was no getting out of training.

The culture of running in the U.S. is one of universal popularity. As one of the most popular form of exercise, running routes can be found in even the smallest towns in the Midwest. Many countries have some sort of running culture, although local customs may alter seemingly obvious aspects to running. In Greece, for example, it is considered rude to wave at fellow runners as you pass one another and in Oświęcim, very few go running on Sundays. Understanding a country’s running “scene” is a way to see how imbedded these little customs are in the culture of the country, so it's just a matter of researching that and creating the safest routes possible prior to embarking.

Running, especially in the beginning of my co-op, allowed me to explore Oświęcim in a way I would not get by simply walking around town. Through routes that varied in length, I learned about the culture of living in a former Nazi town, and the normality this history possesses. Oświęcim is about 11 square miles, so my longer runs brought me outside of the city into the neighboring towns. Rural areas surround Oświęcim, so it was rather normal for me to run past corn fields or through forested parks during my route. It will be odd to return to Boston and not greet the free-roaming cows and chickens in the “wild” during my run.

A couple of weeks ago, I ran around the Soła river which runs through the city center, and, assuming I was aware of my location, I took a turn thought to be a shortcut. I should say that I have a great talent of getting lost really easily, so easily that I am inclined to put it in the “special skills” section of my resume. Anyway, I ended up on the other side of the Soła which was a pleasant detour until I began to see barbed wire in my peripheral vision: I stumbled upon Brzeszcze, a province of Oświęcim, and the location of Auschwitz II-Birkenau. I immediately stopped and sat down to attempt to process. When I get lost on my runs in Boston (which happens more often than I would like to admit), I find myself at the aquarium. In Oświęcim, I find myself near a former Nazi extermination and concentration camp.

With only 6 more days left, I want to circle back to one of the first themes I encountered during my time in Poland: normality. To me, being from the United States, living near sites of mass trauma is abnormal. I do not know what it is like to be confronted by my country’s difficult heritage on a daily basis when I walk outside my door. I am disappointed in my ability to judge those living in Oświęcim so easily. Why would these people choose to live next door to the largest site of Nazi extermination? By the same logic, why did I choose to live in Catonsville, Maryland? I didn't, my parents bought a house and raised my siblings and I there, so should I be judged if I also choose to live in my hometown? I am not phased by the sights of Catonsville, just as those in Oświęcim have normalized sights of barbed wires and chimneys.

Oświęcim is much more than a murder site. Although this is, for obvious reasons, a significant part of its history, I can understand the want to emphasize other facets. Oświęcim didn't choose to become Auschwitz, the Nazis made that decision.

Half-marathon training in Poland has become normal to me. This normality involves cows, old Polish men biking 2 miles per hour with a chicken in his basket, the constant smell of fresh bread, and barbed wire. I am not ashamed of this sense of normality, although I am critical and analytical. I already know this 3-month co-op has been one of the most life-changing experiences I will ever have, seen most prominently by the fact that even something so simple as running, in Oświęcim, became a dramatic, blog-post-worthy lesson.

Ravensbrück

Last weekend, I returned to Berlin with the intention of conducting interviews for the Brudnick Center on Conflict and Violence at Northeastern. This lens brought me to Fürstenberg, where I met Sabine, a local member of the community and archivist in the collections department at the former Nazi concentration camp, Ravensbrück. A concentration camp is essentially a labor camp for the criminals. We, of course, know that this definition was only loosely adopted during the Third Reich, as most inmates’ only crime was being born in a certain country or into a certain religion. Germany itself only had concentration camps and labor camps. Extermination camps, such as Auschwitz and Treblinka, had the primary goal of, you guessed it, mass extermination. Treblinka, located northeast of Warsaw, is responsible for the death of approximately 900,000 people, and it only interned approximately 20,000 prisoners. That is to say that almost one million were sent straight to the gas chambers, making this the agenda of this extermination center.

Map of extermination, concentration and brothel camps in the Nazi occupied area

Ravensbrück, although it did not have the primary goal of extermination, provided its prisoners with some of the worst living and working conditions imaginable. Ravensbrück was first established in 1939 as a men’s and women’s camp and soon turned into the largest all-female concentration camp in Nazi Germany. Until the time of its liberation by the Soviet army in 1945, 132,000 women had been registered as inmates. Most women, especially in the mass liquidations of larger camps in Poland, such as Auschwitz, passed through Ravensbrück before being sent to work in other concentration camps as the Nazis grew frantic over the approaching Allied troops. Notable prisoners include French princess, Anne de Bauffremont-Courtenay, author, Corrie ten Boom, Polish Countess, Karolina Lankoraska and 131,997 other women from 40 different countries.

Map showing the amount of prisoners from each country registered at Ravensbrück

Why, with such horrendous conditions, massive numbers of prisoners and notable inmates, has Ravensbrück been frequently overlooked by the Holocaust tourist community? Different theories exist, but I cannot help but taking a feminist approach: female Holocaust survivor stories do not tend to be as “popular” as their male counterparts, and so, a place devoted to educating it's visitors on the female prisoner experience, would also be overlooked for predominately male concentration camps, such as Sachsenhausen. The result, unfortunately, is a lack of funding that has disallowed the Ravensbrück Memorial from reaching its potential as a museum.

Ravensbrück Memorial created an exhibition focused on the life of women in Ravensbrück and during the Holocaust, in general. The exhibitions place an emphasis on artifacts and audio and visual testimonies to personalize the trauma endured, educating visitors on the unique suffering of  women during the Holocaust, some of which are still unknown by the majority of the population. I will be the first to admit that I did not know about Ravensbrück prior to my visit last summer during a Dialogue of Civilizations. I knew of Sachsenhausen and Auschwitz and Treblinka and Bergen-Belsen and all those big names, but I failed to learn about the largest women's concentration camp during World War II. The exhibition successfully presents information about female prisoners in various concentration camps and creates a dialogue that would otherwise not exist.

Certain pieces of information thoroughly impacted my view of Holocaust education, because what I was reading on the walls of the Museum, are things that should be obvious lessons in any curriculum on the Holocaust. For instance, rarely are brothels spoken about in the discussion of concentration camp organizational structures. By order of Henrich Himmler, in some camps, including Auschwitz I and Dachau, female prisoners were assigned to a prostitution Kommando. In fact, the brothel in Auschwitz I was  in Block 24, the location of the current Museum Archives Department and, subsequently, my office. Male survivors testify that they could earn “passes” or “tokens” to be redeemed at the camp’s brothel. The testimony of these survivors suggest that these women received special treatment, including better food and living conditions. One survivor went as far to say he did not feel pity for these women because of this special treatment.

Bonus voucher to be redeemed at the camp brothel

In my ignorance, I also neglected to give thought to the trauma exposed to women’s reproductive systems. Women who were raped by SS or by male inmates in the camp brothels, had their pregnancies immediately terminated. Brothel workers returned to work the day after an abortion surgery. In some cases, an abortion was not necessary, as SS officers selected to rape Jewish girls who would be sent to the gas chambers the following morning. Sterilization also occurred in mass numbers, especially at Auschwitz. This mainly took the form of electrocution followed by a series of blood tests and the eventual removal of reproductive organs. Women selected for these tests and surgeries would have to return to their work details following surgery.

Women faced additional difficulties of sanitation, especially during their time of the month. Women, just like men, we're giving one shirt, jacket, one pair of pants and one pair of undergarments. Women did not receive extra undergarments during menstruation, and faced punishment for dirtying their only uniform. Malnutrition and starvation, however, resulted in the termination of a woman’s menstruation cycle, sometimes permanently. This brought up some controversial debates after the War, as women sought compensation for their sufferings, including becoming infertile as a result of forced sterilization or starvation.

Ravensbrück was also unique in the prevalence of female SS guards. Female SS officers patrolled many other concentration camps, but Ravensbrück had a disproportionally high population of women in uniform. The Memorial devoted an entire house for an exhibition on the brutality and eventual trials of female SS officials in Ravensbrück and beyond. The SS conjure images of beefy German alpha males, but even blonde Aryan 20-somethings carried a pistol and are responsible for the murder of hundreds of innocent lives. There aren't statistics on male versus female SS brutality rates, although survivors speak of the crimes committed and beatings conducted of each gender, depicting equal levels of horror.

I could write much more on the female experience during the Holocaust, especially at Ravensbrück, but time and space do not permit. If you are at all interested in the fate of women during the Holocaust, please do not hesitate to contact me. I find almost too much enjoyment in talking, learning and educating anyone and everyone about the Holocaust. Sabine expressed how the lack of interest, especially seen in the number of volunteer applicants, prohibits the Ravensbrück Memorial from reaching its goals of educating as many visitors as possible. She was very interested in the co-op program at Northeastern, and I hope to establish a connection for future students interested in assisting in any of the departments at Ravensbrück. This process, however, requires interested students to come forward, so if an international co-op at an incredible non-profit educational center is a future plan of yours, please reach out.

I find that it is the duty of our generation to uncover experiences that have been hidden for 70+ years and ensure that every Holocaust story has the opportunity to be shared.

Große Saal

Berlin Round 2: that’s right, this past weekend, I made another trip to one of my favorite cities. My research through Northeastern directed me to the German capital for a weekend of investigation, celebration and orchestration.

I first travelled to Fürstenberg, a town just outside of Berlin, to meet a family friend, Sabine. My aunt, Sabine and another Berliner, Magdalena, joined the Medical Mission Sisters, became friends and have kept in touch. This connection not only gave me multiple places to sleep, but also gave me the opportunity to meet some truly incredible women.

Sabine works at Ravensbrück, a former Nazi concentration camp, so we had a lot to talk about. Ravensbrück was the only all-female concentration camp run by the Nazis and, therefore, has a relatively unique history. I plan on dedicating an entire post to this unfortunately “unpopular” Holocaust tourist destination because it is, to me, one of the most under-appreciated sites for Holocaust education.

Sabine and I after having coffee with some people from her church community

Sabine also helped start an aid organization in Fürstenberg dedicated to assist in the assimilation of refugees. Germany, as you probably know, has had a controversial relationship with the groups of refugees, mostly from Syria, that have entered its borders in astounding numbers since the Arab Spring. I got the opportunity to visit the housing facilities Sabine and her organization have fought to get for the now 70+ refugees living in Fürstenberg. Saturday was also a special time in the town because it was the first day of school celebration. In Germany, it is tradition for children entering kindergarten to be welcomed to their school in a ceremony and the reception of Schultüte, a cone-shaped object filled with sweets. The ceremony is usually held on the weekend to ensure family members from out of town can travel to the school and see their 6 year-old attempt to carry a 3.5’ cone. On my first day of Kindergarten, my parents took my picture by the bus and I probably got a hug. I’m not bitter.

There were four children from refugee families that will be beginning Kindegarten this year in Fürstenberg. Three other children will be starting at the elementary school and, because it is their first year at a German school, they got to participate in the ceremony as well. I was moved by the way the school welcomed these children with complete acceptance, something not always expected by a small, monoculture town.

After the ceremony, we joined the families in a trip to the local ice cream parlor. The families speak various levels of German depending on how long they have been in Germany. Sabine and some others are volunteering their time to teach German classes at night to adults that would like to learn and the children are taking extra German classes provided by the school. Most of the children didn't speak English and, because I don't speak German, I could only interact with them through play which they were pretty receptive too once we were all on a sugar rush from the ice cream. Coming off the sugar high, I found myself sitting at a table while a 3 year-old Syrian girl taught me how to count in German. I taught her how to count in English and she caught on right away, while I forgot the German numbers almost immediately. I have been in college as long as she has been alive, and she outsmarted me without even knowing the English language!

On Sunday, I journeyed back into Berlin (only an hour train ride) and met Magdalena, a therapist at a rehabilitation center. I ate so much plum cake, learned a lot about the German Holocaust education curriculum and got all my dreams psychoanalyzed: it was a well-needed, different experience. That evening, we decided to go to the Philharmonie and see the John Wilson Orchestra. I have never been to the orchestra and I didn't really know what to expect. I thought it would be all classical music and, because that is my genre of choice for studying, I was worried I would automatically take out a notebook and feel like I had to take notes. To my delight, the orchestra is conducted by a young, British man who created a set list of songs from famous movies. I had some interviews that day, so I was dressed in “co-op chic” and attending the orchestra: this is adulthood, people.

The orchestra warming up before the first act

After a reluctant goodbye and a couple more slices of plum cake, I made the 12 hour journey back to Oswiecim. I had a connection at a station called “Praha,” which I assumed was in Germany or Poland, but once the conductor came around asking for our passes to go across the Czech Republic border, I realized my layover was actually in Prague. In 72 hours, I took 8 modes of transportation across 5 cities in 3 countries: what did you do last weekend?